


bittersweet.

by Kiniiru



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: F/M, Pain, Romance, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3321002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiniiru/pseuds/Kiniiru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kougami misses Tsunemori.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bittersweet.

**Author's Note:**

> If there are huge mistakes - I apologize in advance.

Sweet, so sweet.  
Her lips touching his, slowly, enjoying themself. Her hands that somehow find the way to his face, touching his skin so soft and gentle, caressing his cheeks and then stay there, force him to let her kiss him. He can't do anything against it. He can't win against her.  
He feels how her body's warmth starts to melt away the cold that grabbed his heart a long long time ago. He doesn't know what to do, how to push her away, and he is aware of the fact that he doesn't know because he doesn't want to. His eyes slowly close, it looks nearly painful, while his hands are trembling, trying to prevent taking her elbows and pulling her closer, closer, until she touches him. But he has the control, he got it, and he stays calm to the outside while her lips slowly leave his. She backs up, her hands brush against his face once again, then they're gone and the warmth slowly disappears, vanishing in the cold air. And he hears the silence that appears between them. He isn't able to say anything while opening his eyes, and they widen when they see nothing. She is gone. He can't remember for how long exactly he's been standing here and waiting for this feeling to come back, but he knows it only comes to him while this woman is close. He wants her closer, he really does, but somehow she manages to run from him every single time she embraces him. So, so soft. He isn't able to recall her hands, her lips, but he knows that it's feeling good, being comforted.  
He knows he won't have that feeling again once she is gone. And it causes a slight ache in his heart which he can't explain, doesn't want to explain although he knows it would be that simple. An explanation would ruin it all, he is aware of this, and he knows he is missing her. With every day she isn't there where she should be, smiling up to him, her lips moving while talking with this cold face, the Inspector, even laughing or teasing him with a slight grin. There were faces that weren't that nice, crying and screaming and even shouting, but all the good ones stay in his mind. The only time he can imagine her face right away is on the roof, though.  
It's cold up here, the wind is blowing really fast. He feels this icy fingers stroking through his hair. Once he was enjoying it, but now he only feels this pain confirming that her warm hands can't chase away the cold anymore. She always touched him up here, just his cheek, his hand or arm, sometimes his lips. But he felt warm as long as she stood besides him, quietly looking down on the city they were protecting. He leans himself to the wall, looking up to the dark sky which is clouded and predicts a heavy rain again. And then he closes his eyes.  
Her voice is carried over the roof by the wind, iterwoven with the cold, and there she is. He opens his eyes, careful, careful – if he is too fast, she will disappear again. But she is staying, again. Standing in front of him, slightly smiling, and he feels the warmth welling up in his body with a tiny touch of hidden longing and pain, sweet, so sweet. He wants to reach out to her with his arms, pull her body to his and kiss her, tell her she's too far away, tell her she's missing. But the woman doesn't come closer and he can't move his arms when she finally does, maybe seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours later. His heart hurts more and more while she makes one step after another and reaches him after such a long while. He takes a breath of cold air and there it is, her fragrance, just slight but enough to catch a hunting dog's attention. Her body approximates, testing him, bringing him to his limits as always. Then something touches his chest, just two fingers, then three, then five. Every point touched flares with a hot flame and he feels how the warmth comes back. The hand reaches up, barely touching his collarbone, barely touching his neck, they're not important – she doesn't want it, he doesn't want it. Shaking with impatience he waits for her to reach his face, faster, faster, but she doesn't rush although he wishes for her to. Just a swipe on his chin, then her fingers finally reach his cheeks. She's touching them, still slowly, but she is there, and her hands caress his skin. His eyes close automatically, halfway open, but he's still awake, he does still see her. Her smile doesn't vanish while she is stroking through his hair, slowly, caring. He feels it, every point she touches with so much caution, as if he could shatter under her fingers, but he knows it's just the other way around. And there she comes, her lips open up just a few millimeters, her grip gets tighter, even if it's still smooth and warm, forcing him to face her. She doesn't know he wouldn't run away even if she didn't have her hands there, he would wait for her, he would stay there silent, paralyzed by how she acts. He can't move now, his muscles freeze how they always do when this sweet feeling is surging up in him, grabbing his heart and soul and compressing them. But he has no time to think of those things, and his brain is empty, so everything he is doing is looking at her, watching her while she comes closer and closer, suppressing every single breath to keep her from disappearing. And when her face is just in front of his, her dark, warm, brown eyes are staring into his, with this slightly amused glance, his breath stops completely. His lungs don't want to pull in air anymore, they give up to the presence of this woman who now puts her lips on his, slowly, gently, soft. Barely touching. He tries to come closer, but his muscles won't move, and the kiss stays like this, stays the same, and even when he wants more, she would never give him more. Their lips meet, sweet, sweeter, just slightly like a gossamer being ripped apart gently by the wind in a summer storm. And then they melt just as slowly, the wind stops howling, the rain stops falling, and the whole world stops spinning. It's just one second, and he knows it's over in a second again, so he tries to push forward, to hold her a little while longer, and he opens his eyes completely to see her face. 

The rain started falling again. The roof is empty, and he closes his eyes shut for a moment, his face is a mask of pain and regret and longing, missing. The rain drops falling down on his pale face seem to be intertwining with the tears that are suddenly running down his face as well. He has time to cry, the rain won't tell anyone. And he cries while thinking of her. Thinking of her makes his soul tremble and his heart ache and he can't control himself when that happens, when he thinks of her. He knows he can't let go, but it doesn't matter. It was too pure, she was too pure, and she showed him how life goes. How everything goes, because there is always somebody precious to you.  
He cries further, raises his head until his face turned towards the sky, the tears are rolling down his cheeks, invisible between all the raindrops. He isn't the type who cries as much, who thinks as much about a person, who misses, he isn't the type who dies in despair, but this time he knows he will.  
He will fall for her fragrance again and again, for this bittersweet fragrance.


End file.
